


Hate is forever

by orphan_account



Category: The Warrior's Way (2010)
Genre: Gen, Growing Up, Out of Character, Sad Ending, Teen Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2016-05-31
Packaged: 2018-07-11 10:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7043752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I mean, it’s not like anyone would put their life on the line for me, right? I’m not that special.” April has forgotten the truth. She is that special and more than one person had died for her safety before she could walk or talk. Some willingly, some not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hate is forever

**Author's Note:**

> Let us not forget that Yang killed April's parents and The Saddest Flute prophesized that she would always be the enemy. The music in her dreams is the very one that plays when Yang takes Lynne for a spin. English is my second language.

I heard someone say, “All truth can be seen if you look into the eyes of a child.”

I don’t know if it’s true or not. I don’t have a baby and there were no babies where I grew up. Except me, obviously.

People tell me a man who looked like me brought me to this country where nobody looks like me. Everyone is pleasant enough and some people genuinely like me, but no one is like me. And no one can tell me where that man went. I suppose he just walked out into the desert. If it were me, I’d never stop walking.

I wish I remembered him. I know he planted the garden. I’m told by the people who were around at the time that I learned to walk in that garden. And that I was cared for and watched over.

I don’t remember how that feels, either.

My mother – Lynne – I called her my mother, but she wasn’t really related to me. She brought me up, as much as she could. She died when I was eight. An accident of some sort. It was really tragic and she was gone really fast. One day I had a family, the next day no family. Carnies are nice and friendly, but not like a family. They raised Lynne, too. Or so I’m told.

I think I’m going to go look for the man who brought me here. Nobody tells me anything, not even his name or where he came from or what he did before he was doing other people’s laundry. Nobody tells me anything and I don’t ask. Not anymore.

I keep asking myself, “Does any of this have anything to do with my dreams?” I’m having these really crazy dreams. About crows as large as men and a gun barrel, pointed at my face. About knives and swords. But never the people, the swordsman, the knife thrower. There’s a piece of music that keeps playing in the background of every dream. Such joyful music. I’ve never heard it with my own ears. But I’d give anything to find out where it comes from.

I stole a knife from the kitchen last night and put it in my bag. I’ve got a lot of things in that bag, all ready to take with me when I leave. After Lynne died, this small town wasn’t really my home anymore. I tried to believe it could be my home again, but now I see that it’s pointless.

I’m leaving tomorrow at first light. The desert is so beautiful. The colors the sun and the wind create together. And the night sky. It’s so empty. I imagine listening to the music from my dreams to make it less sad and lonely.

My entire life feels like an echo of another life. Like a twisted version of a once beautiful story. I wish I had my own story to tell. I just hope it won’t end with my death in the desert. I just need a little more water and then I’m out of here.

No one will miss me. Well, some people will miss me. Probably. A little. But nobody loves me here. I mean, it’s not like anyone would put their life on the line for me, right? I’m not that special. I’m a nobody.

But I’m going to be somebody, somewhere, someday. I’ll be special enough that people will die or kill to protect me. No more gun barrels in my face. No more dreams about invisible swordsmen. I’ll be free of the story that is like a shadow over my life.

And if I meet the man who is responsible for my growing up in the middle of nowhere, who came here and brought me along and then left me behind, abandoned me, really, so be it. I’ll hate him forever anyway.


End file.
